London part 5 of Sophie and Tara's story
by SophieDevereauxtoo
Summary: Sophie can't stop thinking about Tara and what happened in Paris. She wants to make things right again but she doesn't know if Tara will accept her apology.


Summer. London 1999

I am sitting on the balcony of my condo in London. The sky is clear and I can see the boats on the Thames and the London Eye. "What a ridiculous eye sore that ferris wheel is" I think to myself. I'd much rather be looking at old bridges and castles. I suppose I just have an old romantic soul. I am wearing only an Asian silk robe, tied loosely in the front. It hangs low on the top and falls open across my crossed legs. I don't care that any one might see. I hope they are enjoying their view as much as I am enjoying mine. I am sipping a cup of tea and nibbling on toast and just plain relaxing on a lovely morning on a beautiful day.

I don't often take the time to relax like this. I keep this little place in London though I don't visit it much. It's my home base, my sanctuary. No one in the world knows about this place. The rent is paid through a trust with so many dummy names and corporations attached that only a genius would be able to trace it back to its owner. Even if someone were able to, it's not in my real name anyway.

I've come here from Paris. I need to take some time to think. I've been here several weeks already. I have a lot to think about. I need to plan my next caper. I've got my eye on a little man in The Vatican. I need to do much more research before I try to catch him. I could always go with the museum worker con. Its one of my favorites and it works like a charm. It's also a very long job sometimes and a great deal of boring and tedious work. I should to do something quick and easy and full of excitement first, before I take on something like a museum job.

I need to think about my life. I'm tired of always switching identities on a whim. Not that I will ever stop acting, playing the part that others want me to be, tailoring my name, my looks and my accent to the job at hand. No, that's too much fun. The problem is that I need to be somebody on my off time. Someone I can slip back into instead of this non-being that I am right now. Someone that I like, who can just relax and be, someone who's not always running a game. I need to think about that some more. And I need to think about Tara.

Tara. I sigh. Paris was wild, running into Tara. She was so angry. So vulnerable. So cold. I wanted desperately to be back in her life and so I played her game. It was, well, it was intense. It was pure sex in its basest form. Wild and out of control. Thrilling really. But there was no tenderness, no affection, no love. Just two beings who used each other to fulfil their animal needs. It was amazing and sad all at the same time.

I told her I would play along if that is the only way to keep her in my life. Lovers but not friends. Just thinking about it hurts my heart. I even came up with the "date night" idea. What is that called? A booty call? It's not going to feed my romantic soul but I need Tara and so I will do what she wants. She's like a bad habit, or maybe an illicit dessert. Not something you want every day but something that you need every now and then. I need Tara. I can't explain why. She fills a part of me that no one else seems to be able to. I've dated men since she and I met and I plan to continue to do so. I haven't been interested in other women. Just Tara. I don't get it but there it is.

So I suppose it's time now to figure out this date night thing. I will take Tara any way that I can get her. I would like to be friends again as well as lovers. I really do like Tara. She makes me laugh. She makes me feel young and desirable. She makes me feel alive. Yes, Tara could be a wonderful friend. First I need her to forgive me. To trust me again. To love me again. I'm not sure when or if it might happen but I will be my best for her.

I don't want to plan a night of debauchery in a tacky hotel room. I want to be with her before being with her, if that makes any sense at all. I know we will never go back to the way we were in Soverato but perhaps I can woo her a bit. Take her out for a romantic dinner. Get to know each other all over again. Maybe dancing. Tara loves to dance. And then later…my stomach tightens at that. The later we've always been good at. I don't know if she's ever been to London. We can do some sight-seeing and some shopping. I can show her some of my favorite restaurants at to eat and fun little pubs to drink in. We can make it a weekend. Or a week. We can let go of our cares and our lives and just have a good time for a couple of days. And nights. Yes we mustn't forget the nights. There goes my stomach again. All I need to do now is to figure out where to find her. And how to get her here.

I drag myself from my warm balcony and sit down in front of my computer. Though I am distracted, I force a bit of work on the man in The Vatican. It looks like I might be able to apply for a position in the museum as a researcher. I sigh. It's a good job for me but it's going to be a tedious one. More than a couple of weeks likely before I am able to get close to my target. I fill out an online application in the name of Jennie O'Connor, Renaissance art scholar from the University of Edinburgh. Another sigh. Jennie sounds boring.

Now for something more interesting. I make a few phone calls. I contact people I know through my work, people who know things, people who are willing to sell information on anyone or anything for the right price. I ask for them to find Tara for me. A bit of information about where she might be and how one might contact her if one wanted to. I tell them to start in Paris. Another sigh. Nothing to do now but wait. And plan.

Three days later I receive a phone call. A woman believed to be Tara is in Prague. She is staying at the Hotel le Palais. An excellent choice. I've stayed there many times myself. The Palais is a gorgeous piece of architecture, built in the mid 1800's and redesigned before the turn of the century, it was meant to be the first of a "new Renaissance of Czech architecture". The hotel sits at the city center and is perfectly situated for both sight-seeing and the kind of work that Tara and I specialize in. I feel just a bit jealous. I daydream for a while about taking a little trip back to the Czech Republic soon. I should look up some of the museums there. Perhaps I will invite Tara to come with me.

There is work to be done here in London first. I call up the Savoy to reserve a penthouse suite. The Savoy Hotel is my favorite to stay at when in London. It is in the theatre district and is famous for all of the Royalty and legendary actors and actresses who have stayed there. I make a reservation for two at Clois Maggiore, arguably one of the best and most romantic restaurants in town. I am sure to ask for a coveted private table in the Conservatory. I love it in there with all of its beautiful lighting and gardens. I know I look gorgeous there and I am sure Tara will too. A five course meal with wine and a special dessert will be waiting for us. I call my favorite dress shop and order two gowns, red for me and blue, no green, for Tara. I find lovely venue for ballroom dancing. It will be the perfectly extravagant evening for the kind of romance I am longing for. I hope that Tara will appreciate the effort I've put into this and the fact that I am offering her all of me, not just my carnal side.

I call an associate in Prague and have delivered a single red rose and a note to Tara's room.

"Please accept this flower and an invitation to our first date night.

A car and a plane ticket will be waiting for you tomorrow morning"

I leave the signature blank. A driver will pick her up at the airport and bring her to the hotel for a full spa treatment. Her dress will be waiting along with another driver to bring her to the restaurant where I will be waiting.

Waiting. That's all there is left to do. Wait. And worry. To try to control the excitement that is bubbling up inside of me. To quell the dread that she may not come. I've never done anything like this before. It's been done _for_ me and the experience was magnificent. I hope that Tara can appreciate it all. I hope she is willing to forgive me and take this as the olive branch that I mean it to be. I hardly sleep at all. When I do, I dream of nothing but Tara and her beautiful body laid out before me.

I get word from my man in Prague that Tara accepted the invitation and has boarded the plane to Heathrow. My heart skips a beat. I rush around all afternoon making sure that everything, especially me is perfect. I arrive at the restaurant just minutes before Tara is due to arrive. I worry that she won't be there. I worry that she will be angry. I worry that I won't have anything to say to her when she does arrive. Every time the door opens my heart stops for just a second.

It seems like hours but Tara finally arrives. Our eyes find each other's immediately. Suddenly I can't breathe. I have seen Tara so many times but I don't think I have ever seen her more beautiful. Her golden hair is wound in a knot around her head then cascades down across her bare shoulders. Her face is glowing from the pampering she received at the spa and her golden brown skin is smooth and flawless. The green dress is a perfect fit, tight across her hips and low in the bosom. Her long tan leg slides forward through the slit in the front of the skirt. I stare. Everyone stares. I don't think I will ever be able to take another breath. She smiles at me and my heart starts beating again. She's here. She's not angry. She looks happy. She's here on a date with me! I take a breath.

From the look on her face, I see that my presence has a similar effect on her. She appreciates my work. Good. We move toward each other and exchange friendly kisses on the cheek and complement each other on our outfits. Tara gives me a little wink. My stomach does its flip flop thing. I take her hand as the maître di leads us to our table. He holds Tara's chair first, then mine. I reluctantly drop her hand.

We talk quietly and casually while waiting for the sommelier pour our wine and our waiter to bring us our first course. Tara tastes the pumpkin and pine nut soup and a little moan of appreciation slips from her lips. I barely taste mine. I am still terrified to know how this all will turn out. Tara is being sweet and kind right now but I know her anger also. Over salads and bread we make small talk, what we've been up to since Paris, vague future plans and things we might steal one day. Tara nibbles on her venison and tells me all about Prague and how much she loves it. Again, I dream of going there with her. Someday. Dessert is chocolate on chocolate, drizzled in cream and raspberry sauce and more chocolate. I eat a bite of everything but I still don't have much of an appetite.

Tara seems to genuinely be enjoying herself and that helps me to relax a bit. I tell her about the dance hall and she agrees that will be a wonderful way to spend an evening. We walk, enjoying the warm summer air. Once there, I forget my worries and concentrate on just having fun. We dance together, no one seems to care. We dance tangoes and waltzes and sambas. We end the evening with a rumba, our bodies pressed so close to each other, moving in perfect synch to the music and to each other. I begin to feel that familiar heat building up between us. I press harder into her, I want to be one with her and the music and let the rest of the world around us just disappear. The music finally stops but I am not ready to be done with my dance. I hold on tight and press even harder. Tara looks down to my face and smiles. She brushes her lips with mine and I feel an explosion up through my middle. I whisper to her, "I don't want this evening to end". She whispers back to me "I don't either". Another explosion of happiness and desire moves through me. "I have a room" I tell her, "not far from here". "Can we walk?" She asks. I give a little laugh as I finally let go of her. "I think we should. It's just become way too hot in here". She laughs and takes my hand. We hastily say our good byes to the other dancers. It has been a wonderful evening and yes we will be back. They smile their knowing smiles and bid us a good night.

We walk hand in hand along the street toward the hotel. I resist the urge to run willy nilly down the road like a lunatic. I walk slowly, holding Tara's hand, feeling the warmth in the space between us, just trying to enjoy the moment. Still, the hotel seems so far away. We don't talk at all. I wonder what she is thinking. What is she expecting to happen? What will she say to me? Will we both be there still in the morning? Our night in Paris was exhilarating. I have never felt so alive or so out of control as that night. I think about it all the time. But that is not what I want. If it was, I wouldn't have gone to all of this trouble. We would have met and used each other in a wild and wonderful way and then moved on. I want us to take our time, to go back to being friends rather than strangers on a wild night. I want to be slow and deliberate and remember every moment. I wonder what Tara wants.

We stop for a drink in the hotel bar. It's getting late and the anticipation is killing me but Tara seems content. Or maybe she's as scared as I am? It's never easy to tell with her. It shouldn't be. I taught her everything she knows. I wonder who she is playing tonight? Tara from Soverato? From Paris? Or someone else that I don't know yet.

We order a bottle of champagne to go and a couple of glasses and make our way to the room. Tara murmurs her appreciation of the room I have chosen. The luxury is almost over the top with glass chandeliers, deep couches, a wide balcony and large bed covered in white fluffy linens and pillows. I open the champagne and fill our glasses while Tara checks out the rest of the room. She comes to me on the couch and sits close. She takes a long sip of her champagne. She wants to tell me something but she can't quite figure out how to say it. I choose to talk first. "Tara" I start, "I just want to tell you again how sorry I am, about everything. I really didn't mean to hurt you. I mean I knew it was wrong to leave like I did but I just didn't know how to tell you good-bye. I know you probably still hate me…" "Shhh" she says and put her fingers to my mouth. "I don't hate you. I never really did. I was angry. Was. I'm not any more. I was hurt that you lied to me. That you weren't who I thought you were. I understand now. I know why you didn't tell me, why you couldn't. I know you now. I don't know your name but I know your heart. And I'm OK with that."

I look into her eyes and I knew this is the truth. I want to tell her that I love her. I to tell her my name. I just can't force the words into my mouth. It's as if my name has a magical power, that speaking it aloud might destroy me. Even to the person I care the most about in the world, I can't bring myself to say it. I kiss her instead. It's a soft kiss. It's a kiss full of affection and tenderness. There will be time soon for passionate kisses but for now I just want to be close to her.

"And what about date nights?" I ask her. "Is this what you wanted, what you expected? I thought I could be like we were in Paris but that's not me. It's not what I want from you either. The sex is, well it's amazing but that's not all I want. I mean it is. I want it, I mean you. It's just that…" She shhes me again. "I know. I didn't want that either, not like I didn't enjoy it…" we both laugh. "I didn't think it through when I said that about not being friends. I'm not that kind of person. I can't stop loving you. I can't help it. I want to be friends again. And tonight was the most wonderful date night of my life." I smile and take her glass away. "I'm glad" I say "because it's not over yet". Tara's eyes sparkle. "Really?" she asks. "What else is there? Do you have something else planned?" I lean really close into her, my lips almost touching hers, "Bloody Hell Tara. Of course I have something else planned". Before she can say anything, I press my lips to hers. Her lips part and I go deeper into the kiss. I'm not gentle this time. This kiss is about greed and lust and unbearable desire. She grabs me by my shoulder and back of my head, twisting her fingers tight into my hair. She pulls me harder into her, deeper into the kiss. The room spins and I have to close my eyes as she pulls even more. I feel as if I might sink right into her and I am OK with that.

My hands go to her sides, moving easily down the slick fabric of her dress to her hips where I grab her hard, sinking my fingers deep into her strong muscles. She gives a little squeak and I try to pull her hips toward me. One of us is going to have to give up our position on the couch. It's a tug of war, Tara pulling my head and shoulder down and me pulling at her hips up until I finally give in and fall toward her, knocking her backwards onto the couch. I push the bottom of her dress out of my way and swing around so that my knees are on the couch, between hers. I leave one hand on her hip, pressing her to the couch while I move my other hand up her dress. We are still deep in our kiss but she seems to be having trouble catching her breath. That doesn't deter me. The palm of my hand moves up the inside of her thigh, my fingers walking and reaching higher and higher until they find what they have been looking for. She tries to pull away with a gasp of surprise but I don't let her. I slide my fingers deep inside of her and cup her front in my palm, squeezing hard. She gasps again and this time I let her pull away from the kiss and catch her breath but I don't give any ground with my hand. I push at her harder and she arches her pelvis into my hand. Her eyes are wide, her cheeks are flushed and her breath is choppy. I move in her and across her until her eyes start to go unfocused. She is breathing hard, pushing against the weight of my hand on her hip. I want to take her over the edge but she grabs at me and whispers "stop. Please stop". I pull my weight back off of her but I leave my fingers in their place.

She starts to pull at the front of my dress, trying to free me from the tight fabric. She pulls me flat on top of her and rips at the zipper down my back. As it finally gives way, she pushes me back just enough to shove her hands down the front of the dress, grabbing me then sliding the fabric away from the inside, down below my chest. She tries to roll me over but we hit the edge of the couch and start to fall. She grabs me around the middle and slowly lowers me to the floor, landing lightly on top of me. It's her turn now. She rolls off and begins tugging at my dress again. I let her slide it down exposing all of me and at the same time I pull the zipper on her dress. She manages to slip out of with one hand it while still letting her other hand pull and squeeze at my breasts. Back on top of me, she straddles me letting all of her weight fall across my thighs. She lowers her mouth and uses it to tease me until I pull her head back up to mine for another soul shattering kiss. Her hands trace down my sides as she slides herself down between my legs, her fingers doing to me what mine did to her. She rubs at me harder and harder while I hold my breath, trying to keep control, to make the feelings last forever. Finally I can't stand it anymore and I push her down next to me and grab at her. Just as we come together, I press her into one more kiss. I feel both of our breaths escape as we thrust into each other and merge into one glorious being.

We lay on the floor for a long time, trying to catch our breath.

Tara moves first. She sits up and looks me up and down. She smiles. She asks "do you want more champagne?" "Of course," I tell her. A light buzz would feel great right now. And I am terribly thirsty. We take our glasses to the bed and sip while we talk. We don't talk about us or feelings or anything important. We talk about the fluff that girlfriends talk about when they get together for tea. Movies and gossip, shopping trips. Well, I suppose it would be like that if those girl friends were sipping champagne while lounging naked on top of the covers in a luxurious hotel room. I find I can't help myself from staring at Tara. She is so beautiful. All of her. I smile to myself. I can't believe I have a second chance with my beautiful Golden Goddess. I silently promise that I will never do anything to hurt her again. She reads my eyes and smiles back. She takes my wine glass and drops both mine and hers to the floor over the side of the bed. She slowly moves closer to me and gently lays her hand on my stomach. I look deep into her sea blue eyes and we begin to make love. Hands move slowly this time. Gently. There is no hurry. No urgency. Neither of us has anywhere we need to be. We want to make this moment last for years. We find all of the familiar spots we used to know. We find new ones that neither of us knew about. When we finally come together, we do it slow and tender. No explosions, no forcing our bodies into each other, no breath stealing contractions. It's soft and sweet and it lasts forever.

Tara falls asleep in my arms, her gentle breath caresses my cheek. I doze on and off, never really sleeping. I am just happy, maybe happier than I've ever been in my life. I think about that for a while. If Tara can make me this happy, why can't I fully be with her? Why can't I tell her my name, invite her to live with me in my little condo? All questions I can't answer. I just know that I can't. It's not the kind of life I have chosen. It's not a person I know how to be. I've been someone else for so long that maybe I just don't know how to be me anymore.

Tara wakes early in the morning. She rolls away from me and stretches her long golden body. Her hair is a mess and I reach to brush it from her face. She smiles at me. My heart goes still again. I want her again. Now and later and again tonight. She reads me and I see the same things flash in her eyes. I reach toward her and she laughs and moves away. "Let me order breakfast first," she says. "I'm starving!" I tease her with my hand as she tries to order half of the service menu. She hangs up the phone and turns quickly to me. Her eyes flash dangerously at me and she growls, "You will pay for that my dear. You will pay!" I try to look scared, surprised, anything to hide the merriment and delight that I feel. She's not buying it and moves quickly into me, rolling me hard onto my back and landing on top of me. "Oh yes. You are going to pay!".

Tara wolfs down her breakfast and showers. I much prefer a soak in the tub. When I finally emerge, Tara is sitting cross legged in the middle of the bed. Her soft white hotel robe is tied loosely around her and has fallen open, covering nothing much. She has put a movie on the TV and is eating almonds from the bar. I cover myself with a robe of my own and join her on the bed. I steal a couple of her almonds and turn my attention to the movie she is watching. I recognize Gina Lollobrigida immediately. She was, and still is, a gorgeous woman inside and out. I've always admired her for her art and talent and for her charity. Maybe someday I will call myself Gina in her honor. "Bread, Love and Dreams?" I ask. She corrects me, "Pane, amore e fantasia"_**. **_Its one of my favorites. I've been practicing my Italian. This one is really funny." I nod. I remember the crazy love triangles and misunderstandings between the characters. I try to pay attention to the movie with Tara but something keeps bugging me.

The movie is over and Tara has laid herself back onto the pillows, her robe has fallen completely open. She's planning dinner and entertainment for the evening. She looks happy and that makes me happy. I am on my side, my head propped up in my hand, my other hand trailing idely up and down the midline of her body. "Does that sound good to you?" she asks. "What? Oh yeah fine." I answer. You're not listening to me are you?" Her eyes glitter with mischief. "Um ok. If that's what you want." She sits up and pushes me hard in the shoulder, bringing me back to the present. "You're not listening to me!" "I'm sorry Tara. I need to figure some things out. I need to know what we're doing here and where this going to go." Tara looks concerned. "I know," she whispers , "I wish we could stay here forever but none of this is real is it?" I smile at her. "Oh you bet its real!" I tell her as I playfully push back onto the bed. "Its about to get really real!" I cover her mouth with mine before she has a chance to respond.

We finally made it out to dinner and now we are relaxing in our chairs, sipping our wine and listening to the piano being played in the corner. "Tara, we do need to talk" I tell her. "I know" she says. I try to explain to her again about how I am. That I want her to be in my life but not my entire life. I work alone. Always have. Always will.

She smiles and covers my hand with hers. "I know" she says again. "I know who you are. I know that you don't want to change, or even if you can change. I accept that. I accept that in myself too. I wasn't lying when I said I need you in my life. I am ok with this date night thing." She smiles a bit wickedly, "I am more than ok actually." "But still", she's serious again, "we can both have what we want can't we? Our lives and our thing". I let go of my breath, I didn't even know I was holding it.

"Just tell me one thing" she asks, "tell me your name." I open my mouth but no words come out. I can't. Or won't. Its the one part of me that even Tara can't touch. I begin to feel a panic. This is going to be the deal breaker. Its the one thing that she needs to know so that she can completely trust me and I can't give it to her. I break my eye contact. I look at the table, at the floor, anything not to have to look back at her. I should just tell her. Or tell her a lie. Anything. I can't manage either. After what seems like forever, she sqeezes my hand. "Its ok," she whispers. You don't have to tell me. I understand. You'll tell me when you're ready. I can wait."

I still can't meet her gaze. My cheeks feel hot with embarrassment and shame. She reaches across the table and touches my reddened cheek. "Look at me". I hesitate. "Please?" Slowly I let my eyes come up to meet hers. "I understand. I really do. There's a part inside of you that you need to hold tight to. I feel the same way too. In this crazy business we're in, it is so easy to get lost, to forget who I am and where I came from. It feels like if I let that one part out, it will disappear and I will be lost completely". I nod. I still can't find my own words but hers reassure me. "There's just one thing left we need to talk about", she says with a smile, "I have absolutely no idea what to call you!"

I contemplate her words as we walk hand in hand back towards the hotel. She's right. I've been needing someone that I can come back to when I am done with a job. Someone I can be when I'm not being anyone else. Someone who can have other people in her life. I really have no idea who "the real me" might be so I am going to need to make up someone new. This time it won't be for a night or a month. I need to create me. First thing, I'm going to need a name.

I bring up the name thing again in bed. I've been holding Tara and cuddling and teasing her by letting my fingers fall lightly across her skin. "Who do you think I should be?" I ask her. She thinks for a moment then blurts out "Sophie". "What? Sophie?" I kind of like the sound of it. "Why Sophie?" "I don't know," she replies. "You just look like a Sophie." I try it on by saying it out loud. "Sophie. Sophie. Sofia? No just Sophie. I like it." She smiles. "It's done then. I will call you Sophie". I smile back. Yes, it sounds good when she says it. Sophie. I am Sophie. "What about a last name" she asks? "It should be something foreign. A little mysterious like you are. Something unusual." I think about that for a minute. "Have you ever heard of the lost settlements of England?" She shakes her head no. "Of course not, you're not from here are you. The lost settlements are villages that show on old maps of Britain. They were important places, many from the middle ages. They have either been abandoned or just plain disappeared. No one really knows why." She follows me intently. "Anyway, I used to think about those villages, make up the people who lived in them, try to figure out why they disappeared. Of course it was always something terribly mysterious that caused all the people to leave. My favourite was a place in Herefordshire on the border of Wales." I wave toward some faraway land. " It was called Devereaux. I always thought that Devereaux sounded like it was a wonderful place. It was far from my boring life here in London. There is a castle near there, Eastnor Castle. I would be the long lost heir to the throne and I would return one day and live in the castle and be a real princess. "

"That's it then," she says. "It's perfect." She sits up and motions for me to do also. She gets very serious. "I dub you Sophie Devereaux, lost heir to the castle Eastnor" she says as she touches me gently on each shoulder. We laugh. Sophie Devereaux. I am Sophie Devereaux.

It is high time that Sophie Devereaux and Tara Cole become better acquainted.


End file.
